The Hand of Family
by chloe.quinn.96
Summary: These three women have secrets that will threaten destruction in New Orleans. Isolde, a thousand year old hybrid, has the power to change Niklaus's world forever. Adelina, a brooding vampire, can – and will – crack open secrets amongst the Mikaelsons. And their leader, Luc, a rebellious witch, is playing a game that will leave a trail of bodies in her wake.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Hand of Family**

**We called ourselves a family, **yet we were not related in any way. I was the youngest, though all of us were approximately a thousand years old, give or take a few years. The eldest of our dysfunctional trio, Luc, short for Lucianne (but we had long ago learnt _not _to use her full name, for reasons beyond our understanding) had dragged us halfway around the world to the even more dysfunctional city of New Orleans. I was not entirely keen on the idea, but I remained silent, for neither needed to know of the reasons behind my hesitation. Adelina prompted argument but quickly shut down. We knew why she didn't like the city; it wasn't the city itself but the presence of the Mikaelsons. Out of all of us she had had the most direct contact, even going so far as to marrying one of them four hundred years ago, shortly before he was daggered. She retained her maiden name, as she knows the danger of having such a name attached to you.

In the past year she mourned the death of her husband; she'd warned him of Silas, of the danger that he'd wrought if we was released, as he eventually was, and was subsequently consumed by guilt. In the end it had killed her husband, Kol, and left her irreparably grief-stricken. Last night was the first night she didn't fall asleep crying, or wake up screaming in maddened grief. Yet, as it was for me, I did not sleep.

Just after midnight I rose from my bed and wandered out to the balcony, staring at the variety of humans that wandered on by. Such frail lives! I couldn't help but be enthralled by the passion in which they led their lives, despite their weaknesses, as if they cannot die. Foolish, yes, but incredibly beautiful.

"You're awake," came the soft, statement of Luc as she glided into the room, barely ruffling a sound.

As she came to a rest beside me, leaning against the railing of the balcony, I peered at her.

"You know I don't sleep."

Of course I slept but what I meant, and what Luc knew, was that sleep was rare for me. Often I went weeks without a proper night of sleep, catching only an hour here and there. Then, once exhaustion had sunk deep into my bones, I slumbered for almost two days. I hated sleep. Sleep meant dreams and dreams meant memories; echoes of the past bleeding through the walls I had erected to keep them out, to bar them from my mind. I scorned remembering the past; it only caused pain, pouring salt into a wound that would never heal and would only grow deeper, greater and more vicious, with every year that swept past me.

She smiled knowingly and handed me a herbal pill, along with a bottle of water. I downed the pill, relaxing a little and handed the pill back.

"It might help," she said, "it's a new mix. I bought it from this little place down the road; seemed nice, weird but nice, you know?"

It was unsettling to say the least. We tried to lay low for the first few weeks we were around, only leaving for actual food or blood bags, which we're usually able to grab at night. But to leave for something as minor as a pill? Luc was never the subtle one and she drew attention like you wouldn't believe; mainly because she had such a big grudge with witches, and Vampires as well but to a lesser extent. She seldom was able to keep her mouth shut; her anger bubbled to the top at the sight of witches. It was another reason _why _both of them were very reluctant to go to the one place where witches were arrogant enough to be a nuisance.

"I know that look – you're disappointed," concluded Luc with a sigh.

I shot her a sharp look and turned away, declaring with a neutral voice, "I'm going to bed."

As I reached the bed Luc drew a sharp breath. "You _are _mad with me."

That did it. I spun around. "Of course I'm mad – I know how you are with witches! You can't blame me for that."

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"That's right, I _don't. _You never talk about what happened with me or Adelina, so how are we supposed to understand? You know what, stuff this, I'm tired. The pill is working. I want to sleep."

Sensing I'd shut her out Luc sighed dramatically and left, enclosing me in my own thoughts and darkness.

The following morning we were all waiting in the lounge room, sitting on the vintage furniture supplied by our landlady. She didn't ask questions, was wearing _tons _of vervain hidden items and had a healthy distrust for witches. It was a toxic combination in this sort of town but for whatever reasons it worked, and worked well.

"I'm bored," declared Luc. "I'm going out."

"We're staying here," insisted Adelina; she was skittish this morning, repeatedly glancing around, and hugged herself tightly; a wary fear in her eyes.

"_You _can stay here," said Luc testily.

"_Luc!" _I hissed. "Back _off."_

Luc got to her feet. "I am _tired _of being in this place. I'm a traveller; I can't stick around in one place."

Gazing at her coolly, I arched an eyebrow. "Yes, and now your psycho daddy freed your people we can finally settle down and we agreed to let you choose. However, I don't Ady or I expected you to pick here. This place is practically a war zone!"

A bitter, amused laughter tumbled from her lips. She turned from us and wandered over to a little table by the wall, plucking up the keys. Beside me I felt Adelina stiffen. We were all unstable – Adelina was clinging to sanity, and I had just exited one of the darker moments of my life by the skin of my teeth. As for Luc? She had, perhaps, been the one who was continuously unstable, prone to violent outbursts and fits of crying; the latter of which hadn't happened in a long time.

"War zone? Please! We have fought in _wars. _You guys don't like this because of the Mikaelsons," she said and, turning to me, was blunt with her words, "you won't even _talk _to him because you're so afraid he'll reject you. You just got out of your own personal hell and finally, when you have the chance to be reunited, and use it to find your father, you don't." Then, somewhat surprisingly, she turned on Adelina. "As for you-"

"Fine, you can go!"

Luc rounded on me with a slightly demented smile. "Finally."

She was out the door, grabbing her bag and heels on her way out, before any of us could speak. When the door shut behind her I turned to Adelina, feeling weary but my oldest friend had withdrawn into herself. In her attempt to protect herself from Luc's attack she'd sunk into herself. I sighed and collected a blanket. With some prompting I managed to get her into her bedroom, strip her down and change her into some pyjamas. Once I'd draped the blanket over her I changed into a light floral dress, accompanied with a denim jacket. I slipped out of the apartment, ensuring it was locked. If Luc wanted to get in, well, she could very well use her dam magic after her little stunt. I got that she was testy, that witches flared up her past but I wasn't interested. In the past she'd dealt with me, protected me when I was at my lowest but I had no idea how to handle her, to understand what she was going through. How could I when she wouldn't let me, or Adelina, in? What haunted the powerful and beautiful Luc?

It took an hour of wandering through the bustling night life to notice the heavy population of vampires. Yet even I detected the undercurrent of witches, the murmur of discontent whispering.

As I went to cross the road someone pushed me, sending me stumbling forward – straight into the path of a horse and carriage that was corralling towards me. The world blurred. Horses neighed. I was vaguely aware of movement and then still. I was standing on the other side of the road, down a little alley way. And, as I looked up, I found myself staring into the eyes of my rescuer – a man whose face rang familiar but I couldn't name. That wasn't unusual. I often had trouble remembering faces, or places, or bits of things, and that was all because of my _condition _that I suffered for the better part of a thousand years.

"Are you okay?"

I found that I was clutching him, perhaps holding a little too tight. Quickly scrambling back from him, I stepped back.

"I'm fine," I said, perhaps a little too curtly. Sighing, I smiled appreciatively. "Thank you for saving me."

My phone bleeped, disturbing our uncomfortably long staring contest. I broke away, answered the phone to find a teary Adelina.

"Can you come home?"

"I'll be back in five," I promised. "Has Luc returned yet?"

"No but can you hurry?"

The urgency in my voice prompted me. I hung up and turned to the stranger whom, I noticed, was dressed impeccably in a suit. There wasn't much time. If Adelina was in one of her moods again I had to be there, if only to make sure she didn't do anything. I sighed.

"Sorry I have to go. Family emergency."

"Very well. Try to avoid falling into the path of carriages again."

"But what if means you'll save me again?" I asked playfully, sauntering past. "Why would I pass up that opportunity?"

**Adelina** was fine when I got back; whatever had happened had passed. She was cleaning the apartment, which really wasn't that dirty but I wasn't about to get in her way. When she was in one of those moods it was best to leave her alone, let her clean the stress out of her.

At two in the morning, when I was finally winding down for sleep, my phone rang; rolling over I plucked up the phone, answered it:

"Yes?"

"Issy, um, I made a big mistake," said Luc slowly, cautiously.

Repressing a groan I sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. "What is it?"

In the proceeding five minutes Luc explained that she explored the city when she finally arrived at the graveyard; she encountered a witch ceremony, got busted and when they tried to silence her she lashed out. She said she killed someone. I asked for the exact address, scribbled it and down and was out the door before she could say anything more.

It took me fifteen minutes to race across town and a further five minutes of jogging through the graveyard before I found Luc, standing over the lifeless corpse. Around her other witches lay passed out. Luc was staring down at the body and didn't look up, not until I stood by her and took her into my arms. She sagged into my shoulder, not crying or shaking; she just _leant _there, allowing me to hold her up. And despite all that anger I'd had for her today I couldn't blame her; she had every reason to, really.

"Someday you're going to tell me why you do this and _why _you chose this city," I said quietly, feeling her immediately stiffen in my arms. I quickly added, "but not today. Come on, let's get this cleaned up before these charming lasses wake."

Once we'd jointly carried the witch's body away, back to the car, we left her on the ground as I popped the trunk. Luc helped me lift the body into it. As I went to shut it someone cleared their throat, making both of us jump. I whirled around, finding myself face to face with the stranger that saved my life.

"We meet again," he drawled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Hand of Love**

**Luc**

**Isolde said nothing as **we dumped by the body in the swamp, weighting it down with rocks. It was a method we'd used before, and one I think always made Isolde uncomfortable for some reason – she never explained why, though, and I never pushed. She remained in her judgemental silence until we pulled up at the apartment; before she could say anything though I opened the door and strode off, not wanting to deal with her scolding comments or Adelina's precarious mental state. It wasn't fair that I lashed out at Adelina, she couldn't weather my abuse, but sometimes I couldn't help it – I snapped.

I always wanted to tell Isolde why I did the things I did but every time I had the words my mind seized, and everything else shut down. After a thousand years I'd gotten used to the guilt but I had been able to put it away whilst caring for Isolde. My friend had been cursed a couple years after we met – after which she was either completely withdrawn or the opposite, a raging psychotic mess. I'd had the patience to care for her – it wasn't her fault after all – and Adelina always acted like everything was normal; that may have seemed strange but she provided the necessary normality to balance out the chaos of our lives – or, at least, provide the illusion of it.

It was almost midnight when I found myself in the heart of the French Quarter. The air crackled with magic – the ancient and poignant type that only arose from _ancestry _magic. Vile shit, really. I scorned sacrifice, and the stupid reasons they gave for it, and scorned witches who practised it. Of course, being a born traveller had played _some _role in my hate of normal witches. However, had that been the only reason I would've hated vampires – pretty much most supernaturals. I had my reasons why I hated witches, and particularly those who preached the reasons for their magic, trying to justify sacrifice, murder and torture. Dishonourable creatures, to say the least.

I hadn't told the others why I chose the city but, as far as I was concerned, all of our fates were here –Isolde's half-brother, Nikklaus, and the fact that Adelina had even married one; Kol, I think. As for me, well, I had a bone to pick with Esther, whom I learned was very much alive. Now, I wanted her dead. Simple, really.

Whether by fate, or sheer luck, I ended up at bar crawling with vampires. Curious looks went my way as I went to the bar, took a spare seat and ordered a drink. I'd stolen some money from Isolde before I snuck out the first time, and paid for a bottle of whisky.

"The only reason someone drinks that much is to forget," mused the bartender.

I glanced up; the definitely attractive bartender watched me, smiling. With distinctly Asiatic features, he had nicely trimmed dark hair, humorous dark eyes, a strong and narrow face.

"I've lived long enough to want to forget a few things," I answered breezily. "And I've earned myself a drink."

"Fair enough – hold that thought," he said, going off to serve someone else.

While he was occupied I poured myself a drink, downed it, poured another and then turned around on my seat to survey the club. There was a second to the club, an interior balcony that ran around on the second floor. I saw two men, one of which I recognised. The first, whom I didn't know, was of little interest. My gaze strayed to the other man – Klaus. The similarities between him and Isolde were eerie; more so since he was almost a spitting image of Isolde, and by default, Klaus's father. Isolde and him shared the same grey-blue eyes, that sandy blonde hair and strong nose. On Isolde it should've made her look masculine; instead, she looked fierce, just like her half-brother.

Was this the man that Isolde was so scared would reject her? Of course, given the rumours that wasn't a far-fetched assumption but rumours tended to misshapen, blurred and incorrect images of people. I wondered if he was one of those few that acted in accordance to the general view of him, rather than act differently in order to prove that they were different. Somehow, I believed it to the former.

"I wouldn't go there," warned the bartender.

Surprised, I frowned at him. "Sorry?"

"Klaus – he's bad news for a girl like you."

The corner of my lips picked up. "A girl like me? Sweet, you have no idea what kind of girl I am. I can handle myself if I was interested but I'm not. Curiosity, that's all, for a friend of mine."

"Then warn her."

I laughed and matted his hand that wiped the bar. "She's scarier than me. Girl has a temper that would put even the great Klaus to shame. Anyway, I didn't come here for him. I just came for a drink and to meet hot bartenders."

He stopped wiping the bench, looked at me and quirked a lop-sided one. "Strange, aren't you? New?"

"That obvious." I downed my glass, and poured another as he nodded. "We're new, moved from – well, we moved around a lot. We perform."

"Dancers?" He asked sceptically.

"Singers but yes, a bit of dancing too. Personally, I'm okay at singing but my friend Isolde? She's got this voice that gives you the chills. Then there is Adelina; her voice is amazing, strong and powerful. I just harmonise."

He arched a brow. "Selling yourself short?"

"No, the truth," I said, downing another glass. "So, what about you? Been in New Orleans long?"

"What gave me away?" He asked wryly.

"The accent."

"You got me. Born in Australia. Moved here when I was twenty five back in 1919, just after the war ended."

I frowned. "You're a vampire?"

Surprised, he inquired, "so you know about-"

"Vampires, witches, werewolves, travellers, sirens – yep."

"Sirens?"

"Extinct, now."

"Travellers?"

"Not cursed now. Long story."

He leaned back, smiling at me; the curious gleam in his eyes intensified. I felt a little thrill of something I hadn't felt in a long time, and I knew it immediately – desire. Around us the club thrummed with an eerie sort of energy, an impatient and restlessness. It was a feeling that prickled on the nape of my neck, followed by an icy shiver down my spine.

"I better go," I said quickly.

"You haven't finished your drink."

I slid it back. "I'll pick it up later. Better go before I get into any more trouble with my friends. See you later."

I handed over what I owed, grabbed my bag and went to leave.

"What's your name?"

Half turned back, I smirked. "I didn't give it but don't worry, I'll be back and you?"

"You'll get my name when I get yours."

"Then it's a date stranger."

I was outside before I freaked out completely. It was late, around one, and the street was alive with activity. A street party was in full swing; jazz music, alcohol and the sweet scent of perfume filled the air. Yet, beneath the laughter and banter and secretive glances stirred something darker; a feeling of restlessness. I knew the feeling – it was of war, and a hard feeling to forget.

As I waited for a taxi I stood on edge of the street, watching the crowd with mild, detached amusement. If anything, I felt nostalgic; once, I'd been dancing and singing with my family a thousand years ago as we travelled throughout Europe. Everything had once been so free, so innocent. But that was a long time ago. A long time ago indeed.

"We meet again."

The man from the cemetery; I knew his voice, even without turning to look at him. I smiled; down the road, I glimpsed an approaching taxi. Would he, though, try to stop me? Or worse?

"Sorry about the witch – was she a friend?"

"No but such things do not assist the precarious situation currently."

I glanced at him. "You and my friend would be great for each other." After a moment I added with a sigh. "In my defence I was trying to stop them from slitting some human's throat. I don't have much tolerance for witches but even less for those who use sacrificial rituals."

"Am I to believe you?"

An amused laugh bubbled from my lips as the taxi pulled up. Turning to him, I shook my head in wonder.

"I don't _care _if you believe me. That's what happened. I defended myself and the life of a girl."

"And who was this girl?"

"No idea. She bolted when I snapped one of the witch's neck. Do give my _apologies _to the witches, won't you?"

As I went to get into the taxi he grabbed my arm, leant in close and said:

"Who _are _you?"

"This man giving you trouble ma'am?" Inquired the driver.

I summoned a jolt of fiery energy through my arm; he yanked his hand free and staggered back. Smiling at him.

"No, he's not. He's just learnt not to mess with a Traveller."

With that I slid into the taxi, closed the door, smiled at him – the taxi drove off and I closed my eyes.

That was way too close for comfort.


End file.
